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Industrial Arts

artist, author and designer for the stage…

Forget-me-nots have become my favorite flower

They make me smile as though I have something to hide

They transcend in their smell when I bury my nose deep within them

I long for a day in a field so sweet

Laying on my back off of my feet

Crossing my arms high to make a pillow

To rest my head as I chew on a stem

And stare up to the sky

And pounder all of life’s whys

And never getting anywhere in that

And here is why:

I have forgotten the purpose

The meanings the reasons

They were lost to me eons ago

As I drifted through beings

And now here in my present form

This troubled mind and ragged body

Abused from its discord and rage and dishonesty

And find a sense of what, a sense of purpose, and a sense of trust?

Or is it just to smell the flowers?

The forget-me-nots 

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